


Account of Cathfark Underfoot's Heroic Defense of a Barovian Wedding

by ovr4tee



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Gen, High Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ovr4tee/pseuds/ovr4tee
Summary: When an aging adventurer is marrying a beautiful Barovian the vampiric Count von Zarovich cannot help but turn up at the ceremony to claim what he feels is rightfully his. A fight ensues and this is the story of the latter part of that fight, and the actions of the Halfling Fighter, Cathfark Underfoot.
Relationships: Strahd von Zarovich/Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s), Tatyana Federovna/Strahd von Zarovich
Kudos: 1





	Account of Cathfark Underfoot's Heroic Defense of a Barovian Wedding

The wedding ceremony of Durndle and Irina had, of course, not fully concluded before Count Strahd von Zarovich made his malevolent presence felt. Everyone had been expecting the wretched Count to somehow disrupt the proceedings, and here he was, as if on cue, appearing just before the officiant could formerly pronounce them wedded, accompanied by a dense, all-encompassing fog surrounding the area around the town’s gazebo and those who had congregated there for the wedding.

Cathfark was first to react, moving swiftly to position himself for a clear shot at Strahd. The adrenaline flooded through him and before he had even steadied himself, he had let loose one of the bolts from his crossbow, which swiftly flew by Strahd, barely missing the Count. Three more bolts left his weapon, in quick succession, their specially silvered field points making them look like streaks of ice flying at their intended target, but only one found its mark. The point pierced the top of their target’s shoulder, passing right through, as if the Count were ethereal, but the wince on his face showed that some damage had been felt.

It wasn’t enough for Strahd to be distracted from his focus, and he quickly shook off the effects of the attack and gestured towards the crowd of well-wishers. The front ranks fell, lifelessly, to the floor.

Within moments the party instinctively set to action, focusing their movements, or their attacks on their assailant. The rest of the crowd tried to scatter, but the fog prevented them. Soon enough their fallen fellow townsfolk rose from where they lay, and were now zombified, focused by Strahd to deal with Durndle and his companions. Loud howls and snarls came from within the fog, and moments later a few Dire Wolves entered the fray, too.

Position and counter position. Attack, defense and counterattack. The next few minutes played out over what seemed like hours. Bolts flew, magical swirls and sparks filled the air, swords met shields, teeth and claws were borne.

Before he knew it Cathfark was surrounded, a Dire Wolf to his right, zombies approaching from his left. He turned to focus on the larger opponent, dropping his crossbow, its thong attached to his belt causing it to swing down to hang at his thigh, as he drew his sword and donned his shield. No sooner had his sword made a couple of light cuts on the Dire Wolf stood before him, did he feel the presence of the zombies. He evaded the brunt of the attacks of the wolf, getting caught just enough to cause a few cuts and bruises. He raised his sword with ire, once more, his instincts in overdrive, ready to slash out at his enemies, once more.

Before he could even start to swing again, a magical hum vibrated around him, and his opponents fell around him. He smiled to himself, as he turned around quickly, to survey the scene, seeing where he was next needed. He had seen Sumi fall to a Dire Wolf attack, early in the encounter, but she was now stood up, and readied herself for her next move – Strahd. Cathfark, looked across the courtyard and saw most of the rest of the group also making a beeline towards the Count. He could not hear what was being said, but he knew something was being spoken between Strahd and the others.

He saw, however, that the newest member of the adventuring group, Mathrun the Dwarven Cleric, was dealing with holding off the remaining Dire Wolf. He moved deliberately across the courtyard towards the melee, making sure to stay undetected by the wolf. Feeling another surge of adrenaline, the pain of his few wounds vanished, and he felt a second wind hit him. As he got to the wolf he had his arm pulled back as far as his Halfling body could muster and swung hard. Before the deep slash had even fully cleared the beast, Cathfark was pulling his arm back in another attack this second slash expertly, opening the initial wound even further.

The wolf let out a loud whine, turning its head to see what was tearing at his flesh. Malthrun took the opportunity to hit the beast with a Sacred Flame, causing another howl of pain from the creature. In its pain and confusion, the wolf froze, unable to act even to make the most basic defense of itself. Cathfark used his small size and stealth to slide in an arc around the creature, his sharp sword slicing at the right-hand side of the wolf’s belly. Blood poured from the wound, and the wolf started to let out a bloodcurdling howl.

Before the sound could even leave its throat, Cathfark came to the end of his sliding maneuver, positioned right under the beast’s fully exposed throat. The howl began, but very quickly became a gurgling whine, as Cathfark leapt up, his sword lifted above his head, penetrating the beast’s throat, entering its brain through the base of its skull. Without any other sound, the beast collapsed forwards, taking the embedded sword with it. The Halfling managed to let go of the sword and roll out of the way of the crumpling hulk.

Cathfark stood up, dusting himself off. Malthrun looked over to his smaller companion, grinning at what he had just witnessed.

“Ha-ha! What a glorious tactic!” he yelled in his native tongue, so taken by what he had seen.

“Thank you! Sometimes, its good to be small!” Cathfark replied in the same language, which came as a surprise to the Dwarf.

They both looked over to where the others were confronting the Count, just in time to see him disappear from the scene, in a black cloud. They looked back to each other. Cathfark, pulled a face of frustration and disdain, as he bent down to retrieve his sword, wiping it on the Dire pelt. With a nod to Malthrun, they headed over to their fellow adventurers…


End file.
